Genesis Lost - Books 1 - 6, page 66
Isabelle. The name alone made me cringe. An identity I bought for a bunch of weapon magazines and an old assault rifle, conveniently bundled with a top-notch genetic profile.
“Isabelle…”
“What?” I asked sharply, gazing back at her over my shoulder.
“Think logically, Isabelle,” Luan said, falling back into the couch. “What you hear can’t be Rose, because Rose is dead.”
“My daughter is alive,” I hissed, taking a step into the counselor’s direction.
She didn’t shrink back. Didn’t as much as blink. Luan just sat there, managing to gaze up at me in a condescending look.
“I am not a mother,” she said. “I won’t pretend to know how difficult it is to give up a child. But considering you have done it before, it doesn’t seem too hard. Not for you, at least. I’m sure you can do it again.”
Her words stung like acid underneath my tongue, making bile rise at the back of my throat. I didn’t give Rose up. I made sure she would escape this place. And so would have I, if I wouldn’t have twisted my ankle on the run.
“The council has decided to let Isabelle leave from here today if…” Luan got up, walked right past me and over to the door, her steps once more deliberate and calculated down to the pressure on each heel. She placed one hand onto the door handle, the other she put onto her hip. “If Isabelle tells me how Rose died… because people will ask.”
So that was the problem. I needed to have an excuse for why I returned to the community home — without my child. I knew Rose and the others made it. Hearing it from Luan’s straight-lined lips somehow offered a weird kind of reassurance.
My daughter was safe. Back home at the Clan. With my husband. Most likely ex-husband by now. That part sounded all kinds of messed up.
“How did Rose die?” Luan asked once more with her back toward me, walking through the door.
Ok, you can do this Darya. Rose is alive. Just come up with a story and get out of here. She isn’t dead. It’s just a lie. Just a lie.
“She, um, my daughter…” I hesitated, my stomach convulsing. No lie ever tasted more rancid on my lips. “Rose contracted a virus and passed away a week after.”
“Not good enough,” Luan said and disappeared into the darkness of the gap.
“Wait,” I screamed. “She, um, she, she contracted a virus from the clanswoman. A dangerous strain of influenza which is fatal for infants. She ran a high fever for days. I cried, begging her to nurse. The clinic put her on IV’s but… it was too late. She fell to sleep in my arms, her little hand resting on my chest, never to wake up again.”
“Better,” Luan’s voice sounded from behind the door, followed by a long pause. “But still not good enough.”
Bam! The door fell heavy into its lock. For the first time, she left me behind without my earplugs. Left me back with nothing to listen to but my wails, screams, and sobs which sounded from the white walls and echoed through my brain. Over and over again.
“They killed her,” I screamed, sinking to the ground.
Tears dropped onto the rubber tiles, making my cheeks slip across the surface with every sob that trembled through my exhausted body.
“The Clan killed her,” I screamed once more, the words burning my throat as if I vomited hot coals for a lie. “When they invaded the Districts to get the clanswoman out and kidnap one of our scientists. I got in the way. And they… they grabbed Rose from me and snapped her spine in two. Just like that, as if there was nothing to it. They are a danger to the Districts and everyone living in it.”
The sobs continued, pushing waves of tears over the rim of my already flooded eyes. My mind recited a mantra: I am Darya. I am a clanswoman. I won’t let them break me. I am Darya. I am a clanswoman —
The hinges of the door stuttered underneath moisture and rust, pulling me out of my thoughts. Blackness once more appeared from it, but no face followed.
Instead, Luan’s voice slithered its way through the gap, the tone of her voice suddenly warm and kind. “Come with me, Isabelle.”
Three
The Woodlands
Rowan
I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor, staring at the assembly guide between my hands. No matter which way I turned it, the piece of paper made no sense.
“Uh-uh, no eating screws little fart,” I said, my fingers fumbling the metal hardware out from between Rose’s lips. “Know what? I liked you a lot better when you couldn’t sit yet. You’ll get this old man in trouble one day, I could tell by the way you sucked the styrofoam earlier.”
She answered in a croaky “a-wha,” smiled her biggest smile and slapped her hands onto her thighs. Her head plopped back. Her body swayed. Two seconds later, she slipped sideways off the pillow I had propped her against and rolled onto her tummy. Her hand reached out for me, and she let out a whimper.
“Oh, it’s alright baby-girl.” I dropped the useless piece of paper and the Allen key for what felt like the tenth time, picked Rose up, and placed her onto my lap. “It doesn’t matter how many times you fall, as long as you can still get up. Trust me on that, ’cause I know a lot about falling.”
We walked over to the baby-swing by the window. The moment I detached her from my hip, legs kicked, and warning shouts bellowed through my room.
“Not that shit again.” I immediately plopped her back onto my hip, and her face settled once more into pure sweetness. “You’re really clingy lately. How am I supposed to assemble this crib if I have to carry you around all day?”
“Da-a,” she babbled, brushing her nose against my ribs.
I gazed over the nuts, washers and white slants which lay scattered across the room. Two hours of work. Nothing to show for.
My mind wandered to the closet and far back into the darkest corner, where a solution with a pretty flower print dangled from a nail. Shit no. I’m not gonna use that thing.
I dived my hands underneath Rose’s armpits and pulled her away from my body, but her fingers dug into my shirt and her thighs stuck to my side like velcro. The industrial type. The type that made her eighteen pounds feel as if I was pulling against a full-grown donkey.
“You’re driving me nuts, child.”
I stomped into the closet, shoved our bodies through jackets, thermal shirts, and jumpsuits. “You won’t rest until I embarrassed myself in front of the entire village, will you?”
My hand darted for the dreaded baby carrier. I dragged it back behind me, the plastic buckles clinking against the dented brown baseboards with each step I took.
I propped Rose against the wall on our bed. She observed me patiently, her greener-by-the-day eyes following my every movement. Bright pink and yellow, the flower print scratched my eyeballs out, but I continued with my journey through straps and buckles.
The wide strap was supposed to go around my waist; I had that much figured out. From there it turned from fifth-grade math to quantum physics, and I shoved and punched the dangling pieces in all directions.
“This freaking thing has more gadgets than a Swiss Army Knife,” I said. “Alright, baby-girl… I think we’re ready. Wanna try it out?”
She let out one of those heart-warming laughs I loved so much, followed by more baby babble. I scooped her up and placed her onto my hip, leaning a good bit forward. Then I put my arm through one of the shoulder straps, rotated the waist strap, and moved her slowly from hip to back. Once there, I punched my other arm through the second shoulder strap.
“That wasn’t so complicated,” I said and stood up straight. “What do you think? Is it something you can live with?”
I walked over to the mirror, catching a glimpse of Rose’s reflection with a satisfied smile on her face. After a few adjustments on the buckles, I could actually breathe and crouched back over to the pieces of crib laid out in front of me.
With Rose out of the way, everything of this dinged white crib came together like pots and lids. Ten minutes later, I attached one slanted side to the elaborately carved headboard.
“Rowan,” a familiar voice shouted from the kitchen.
“Right over here.”
“We’re done loading,” Oriel said, leaning his side against the doorframe. “Autumn said they’ll head out soon and…”
His pitch had shifted a gear higher, followed by an abrupt stop. A gaze over my shoulder revealed Oriel with his hand in front of his mouth, his head cocked enough to make his long stray-dog-blonde hair bunch up against his neck.
“What?” I asked, turning the Allen key clockwise using my entire palm. “Never seen a man assemble a baby crib before? How about you stop hiding that grin of yours and put your hand to better use? Bring me that footboard over there.”
His feet remained rooted to the ground, the only movement about him the chuckles which went through his chest like exaggerated hick-ups.
“Truck’s waiting.” River joined the assembly, a small banged-up moving box nestled underneath his arm “Let’s get this show on the road before … what the fuck is that?”
The moving box dropped onto the floor, the clinking and clanking explaining the red fragile sticker on all sides. Glass broke into what sounded like a sweet orchestra of destruction, and Oriel’s hick-up-giggles spilled over the rim of his palm.
He pressed his hand onto his mouth to swallow them whole, but they burst through his fingers and resonated the room in a belly-deep laugh.
“What the hell are you wearing?” River asked, and shot me the kind of look that punched you in the nuts. “Is that… is that Rose on your back?”
Heat climbed up the back of my neck and turned the contraption into a sauna, making my earlobes itch worse than a rash.
“What are you guys? Twelve years old?” I threw the Allen key at them which bounced against River’s arm and dropped to the ground, making him slap his hands onto his thighs followed by a loud chuckle.
I tugged on the straps. “Seriously, how is this any different from my double shoulder holster? Got a baby in it instead of my guns. Big deal.”
“Haha, you look… you look like…” Oriel’s exhausted lungs drew in a sharp breath. “I swear you look like someone tried to put a nightgown on an elephant.”
“Hey, um, um,” River stammered, struggling to draw in the air between each giggle. “Think they got one with heart print in stock, too? Like… for my wife?”
Oriel fell into another deep laugh, throwing himself against River’s shoulder and howling behind his back.
“You wanna be exiled?” I shouted and pointed at Oriel, then River. “Because that’s how you get yourself exiled.”
Oriel flung his palms over his face, wiped off some tears, and left the room. His laughs resounded from the kitchen walls for a few more seconds, each one sending a rush of blood into my cheeks.
“No, seriously man,” River said, plunging his hands into his pockets. “The pink flowers suit you. Really brings out your gray eyes and those —”
“Shut the fuck up, River.” I grabbed a leftover crib slant and threw it toward him.
“Whoa!” Autumn stepped into the room and ducked her head, missing the piece of wood by less than an inch. “What is going on here? I heard glass break.”
“Yeah, that was me. I dropped it, sorry.” He kicked with his boot against the box, the broken contents clinking against each other once more. “I better go wait in the car before Mister Mom here exiles me again.”
River struggled his face into something earnest, gave me a manly apology in the form of a quick nod, turned on his heels, and left the room.
“I’m wearing a baby, ok?” I said, busying myself once more with the slanted side of the crib. “Before you ask stupid questions, too.”
“I know, I read up on it in that book you gave me.”
My sister placed both hands onto her stomach and rubbed gently up and down. She did it all the time now, ever since her blood work confirmed the good news. There wasn’t a bump yet, of course, but she pushed out her belly and practiced her preggo-waddle any chance she got.
She walked to the footboard and dragged-carried it over to me, shoving her shoe underneath one leg in support. With a precise eye, she lined it up with the slanted side, and I worked the bolt deep into the wood.
“Thanks.”
“Uh-huh.” She kneeled down, grabbed another bolt, and snapped her fingers. “What about the other side piece?”
I handed her the Allen key. “Still in the box. I’ll use the crib like this and tie the open side to my bed frame. Figured it’s the perfect compromise between co-sleeping and saving my back.”
“We’re leaving now,” she said, an unspoken question pushing through the undertone of her voice.
Max and Autumn had spent the last two months building their own cabin higher up the mountain. A pretty decent one, too. It overlooked the village with a massive fireplace on one side, stacked high with flagstones they found along the creeks. All morning they had shuffled and packed. Wrapped and carried.
They were ready to face a new adventure.
And she wondered if I could tackle my old memories in solitude.
“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” I said, hoping it might convince her. Or me.
She shook her head. “It’s not that I worry…”
But she did. I could see it in the way she stared down every single line on my face, taking each flinch of a muscle as divination of the future.
“Max and I were just thinking that, well…” She got up and pulled one end of the crib toward my bed, accidentally bumping into the nightstand. The colorful assortment of pacifiers atop danced, and one fell into the abyss between wall and stand, joining all the other baby shit that collected there. “You’ve never lived alone by yourself. When mom and dad died, you took care of me. Then you married —”
“I am not alone,” I blurted, pointing at Rose whose eyes followed my every movement. “I’ve got little fart, remember? She’s gonna keep me so busy, I might not even notice you’re gone. She’s pretty clingy too.”
Autumn stood up straight, placed her hands by her sides, and gazed over to the baby. She took a deep breath and released it in slow, staggered waves, each one carrying an almost audible amount of doubt.
“Little fart, huh?” she said. “That’s not a suitable nickname for a girl. Actually, I’m not sure if it’s suitable for any child.”
“Oh, you got no idea,” I chuckled. “If you would have spent as much time with her as I did, you would understand why it suits her well. Besides, we’re a team. I’m old fart, and she is little fart.”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if we should just have stayed here. Your cabin is big enough for all of us, but —”
“But Max’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” I said. “And I respect him for that. He knows it’s time he took care of his wife and his family. Besides, the cabin would get crowded the moment your two buns pop out of the oven.”
“Respect him, huh?” She leaned back, once again caressing her non-existing baby bump. “Not sure if I ever expected you to say that.”
I rummaged through a box underneath my bed and pulled out two large zip-ties, then fumbled them around the frame and Rose’s snow-white crib.
“Don’t get me wrong, I still think his face looks like a shaved pussy,” I said. “But he turned out to be a pretty good shot, and I know he is capable of keeping you and your children safe. It’s time for you to move on and make your own family.”
She picked up the crib mattress which leaned against the wall beside the fireplace and placed it onto the wooden platform.
“Look, I’m only your little sister but,” she hesitated for a moment, giving her upper lip a quick nibble. “Well, I guess I’m just trying to say that I am very proud of you, Rowan.”
“For assembling a crib in under five hours?”
“Nooo,” her eyes rolled skyward. “I’m proud for how you take care of Rose and give her… like… your everything.”
What she said made a lump form somewhere at the far back of my throat. Nothing I gave to this child would ever measure up to what I received in return.
Getting up in the mornings had a purpose. And I didn’t give a damn if it was for a shit-loaded diaper, or a burp she had stuck between her shoulder blades. I did it all, enjoying every second. Yes, even the ones where she barfed her milk down my neck
“But you understand that this situation might change soon, right?”
“Yeah, I get that.”
I had said it in a calm voice, rubbing my tongue across my gums, which tasted bloody from how her question had sucker-punched me straight in the muzzle.
I wasn’t the baby’s dad, and I sure as hell wasn’t mom either. I was just a temporary caretaker. If someone had stabbed me, the blade wouldn’t have drawn any blood. It clogged my arteries, too chilled to dare a drip. I’d be living alone in this cabin soon, with drafty gaps along the walls bigger than my asshole.
“The clansmen and women aren’t too happy about our choice to bring her back,” she said, tapping her foot against the floor. “Traitor was the nicest thing they called her. And some people are questioning if Rose is yours or…”
Voices continued to trail off whenever they spoke to me about this sore subject. Sometimes I lay in bed at night. Staring at her. Wondering what he looked like. Her donor that is. No matter what kind of sketch my brain came up with, it drove rage straight into my balled fists. I could only hope he wasn’t such a dumb ass like me.
“There’s only six of us who know, and I trust each one,” I said. “As for the other thing, let ’em complain. That’s the only good deal about being a chieftain: I get to make the fucking decisions, it’s that simple.”
“It’s not that simple.”
I couldn’t help but squint my eyes at her, kissing that last and only perk of being a chieftain goodbye.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and pressed her lips together until they turned pale-pink. “There are… rumors.”
“What rumors?”
“Nothing’s confirmed, Rowan.” She gave a wide, appeasing motion. “The clansmen mentioned how some are furious about your decision to bring Darya back.”
